


Longing for my Armor

by cerie



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus/Will, Magnus/Charlotte (implied; past), Will/Abby (implied; past).  Helen reflects on what it means to be out of touch with the modern world and Will reminds her of what she's thankful for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longing for my Armor

Helen’s not entirely sure what draws her up there, to the roof, but more often than not when the press of her years weighs too heavily on her, she ends up beneath the stars. It’s cold tonight, the wind whipping around the Old City skyline, and Helen likes it because it doesn’t let her get too complacent.

It should be a happy day, by all rights. It’s Thanksgiving, after all, and while she’s not American and never will be, the concepts of family and togetherness align well enough with her visions for the Sanctuary that she’s always enjoyed the holiday. They’d had a full house this year, with Erika flying over, Bruno and Sheila, Abby (though she spent it in the infirmary, Helen knows that Will snuck her pie) but it was the missing ones that struck her.

Kate’s still busy in Hollow Earth and there’s no way she could have made it home. Helen misses her laugh, her smile, the way she jokes with Will and pokes fun at Henry. Declan’s never been the sort to really celebrate odd American holidays and while he’d rung them, Helen wants to see his face and swap stories with him about James. Nikola’s up to his own devices, more or less, and while their relationship is on good terms, Helen’s very used to not seeing him around the holidays.

She’s lost in thought when Will approaches and when he touches her shoulder, it startles her enough that she audibly gasps, getting a grin from him. He slides his hands in his pockets and comes to stand next to her, closer to the edge than he’d ever been in that first year of them working together. Perhaps the roof is some sort of strange metaphor for their ever-evolving friendship, Will’s trust in Helen manifesting in sitting closer and closer to the edge. The thoughts scatter when a particularly-strong gust of wind blows through and Helen turns to face Will, trying to put her back to the cold.

“Why are you up here playing Dr. McBroody and Emo, huh? I figured you’d snuck off to work off the turkey coma.” Helen laughs, light and easy, because she and Will have been friends long enough that she counts him among the few people who can actually read her. He’s not perfect at it, no, and she makes it more and more difficult at every turn but he gets it right often enough that she feels vulnerable. It’s good, she guesses, even if she longs for her armor.

“Ah. Just melancholy, I’m afraid, and it’s the curse of the English. I was built to brood on moors and as we’re short on them, I’ve chosen a rooftop instead.” Will huffs lightly and for a half moment, Helen believes he’s not going to let her slide on that answer and while she’s grateful, she didn’t hire him to be her yes man, she’s not got the strength to endure it today. She doesn’t want to look in the mirror and see her flaws and try to change them, she simply wants to hide a bit, and she steps closer to Will under the auspices of being chilled in order to hide a bit. She hopes he doesn’t call her out on it.

“Well, cheer up. It’s been long enough that I think we can conceivably sneak into the kitchen for more pie without Biggie smacking our hands,” Will says, waggling his brows comically and putting on an exaggerated accent that she vaguely recognizes as a hodgepodge of house elf and Weasley. She puts on her best McGonagall disapproval look and it melts into giggles after a few seconds and the laughter just feels so _good_ that she never wants to stop. It’s while she’s laughing that somehow, inexplicably, she’s stepped into Will’s personal space and his arms have gone around her. The wind has blown her hair into disarray and Will strokes her cheek while he tries to set the curls right. Helen closes her eyes and turns into the touch.

“I met someone in Africa when I went to meet the financier.” Will doesn’t say anything, merely keeps her close and tilts his head to coax her to go on. “It’s been so bloody long and it’s not like I can date, really, considering I’m, well, what I am, but I liked her well enough and we seemed to get on.”

If Will is shocked, it doesn’t show on his face, and his only words are a gently encouraging “go on,” and Helen does, choosing her words carefully. It’s not like she expected Charlotte Benoit to be the love of her life. She’s already had one of those, actually, and since it’d gone pretty damned pear-shaped, she’s not inclined to shoot for the stars again. But it would be nice, she guesses, to have someone to bring to Thanksgiving dinner so she’s not sitting alone at the head of the table.

“Did you call her? I hate to say it, Magnus, but you seem like the type who wouldn’t really...follow up. Not that it’s a bad thing, you’re just busy, and you know I’m all about taking breaks.” Helen nods. She had called, actually, and hung up the phone before Charlotte could even answer. It was childish and stupid, she’s a grown woman, but she can’t change the fact that she’d done it.

“I tried, at least. I didn’t give her my number and the few times I rang her, I hung up before she picked up. I did send her an email to offer to fly her here for the holiday but she couldn’t make it, something time-sensitive. Lemurs, all very complicated.” Will doesn’t give any indication that he’s not following but Helen’s aware she doesn’t make very much sense right now.

“I guess it sucked to see everyone all paired up, then? Even though Abby and I kind of had to do the exes trying to be friends thing? It’s going well, anyway, the trying to be friends. I think it’ll work.”

Helen’s smile is small and a touch wistful and while she doesn’t particularly want to reveal this intimate part of her, it’s true. It’s hard to watch everyone be happy and together when she’s just...not. And even if Charlotte had been able to make it this time, Helen has no illusions she’d ever invite her again. There’s no way she can share what she does here with someone who isn’t in the Sanctuary; even Will’s introduction of Abby to their life and their work grates at times though she can hardly begrudge him the desire for companionship.

“Well. I know you didn’t ask for advice, so I’m not really going to give you any, but if you ever, ever want to talk, you know I’m here. I’m always here for you, Magnus. No matter what. And you’ve got an awful lot to be thankful for even when it’s rough.”

He is always there for her, even when she’s not entirely there, and it’s a poor judgment on her part to lean in and brush her mouth against his. She’s lonely and misses just having _someone_ , not particularly Charlotte or John or any other lover she’s ever had over the years. Will’s different. Will’s one of the few people who’ve gotten under her guard as a friend, not as an object of sexual desire and the kiss is balm as much as it’s bliss and while there’s desire (more than she expected, really) the _warmth_ of it is what strikes her most. When she pulls away, his eyes are wide with shock and she worries she’s made a very, very poor decision. He’s newly single and she just...shouldn’t.

“What the...Magnus? Did you hit your head or something? I mean...”

Helen lays her fingers over his lips and makes a low, soothing sound, shaking her head. “No need, Will. I was merely showing my appreciation for something I’m thankful for. Now. I hear there was talk of pie, yes?”

Will kisses her fingers and takes her hand to tangle it in his, squeezing it lightly. “Oh yeah. I think we need to go sample one of each, really. I mean, we didn’t even get to make a comparative study earlier and that’s totally not scientific.”

Helen laughs and nods, mood slightly lighter than it’d been before. The good comes with the bad, yes, but today, she’s simply going to be thankful for what she has.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.


End file.
